Of Uncles and Nephews
by KnuckleFantasy
Summary: (Modern!AU) Rule number 1: Don't trust your nephew. Rule number 2: Even if he's making puppy eyes, don't trust him. Rule number 3: Too late. Now, deal with it, Baggins. (PS: Also,good luck dealing with Thorin Oakenshield.)


**Hi guys ! I'm here again, with my first OS in the fandom. I really need to thanks my amazing bêta for her work (I speaking about you here, TheFrenchBookWorm !) also, check out her fic, it's worth it ! Hope you will enjoy my own OS.**

**Here it goes !**

It's funny how courageous and reckless children can be, only to later grow into fearful adults. Not all of them change that much of course, but it _was_ the case of Bilbo Baggins, a thirty-year-old grocer who, after his graduation, grew steadily less adventurous. Not that he didn't enjoy a good thrill from time to time, but they were usually experienced while reading the detective stories of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The satisfaction he got from a mysterious crime was more than enough for him – unlike having to run after a robber in the street to retrieve an old lady's purse. (It only occurred once, but Bilbo prayed it would never happen again). Just thinking about it was making the poor man turn white. His life as a grocer was a peaceful one, most of the time, and Bilbo wanted to keep it that way. Except that for the past few days, the little man was on edge, having the unshakable feeling that something bad was going to happen.

So when he was abruptly awoken on a Sunday morning by his young nephew, Frodo, who wanted his uncle to take him to the Haunted House, poor Bilbo felt like sobbing. He should have refused, told the child he didn't have time for it, that the lad should ask his mother to take him or his friends' parents, but the boy's puppy eyes were too much to deal with and he ended up saying yes. However, after a fifteen minute drive to the amusement park, Bilbo felt ready to forsake his duty as an uncle. And it didn't get any better when he realised that the crowd was important and that he may well lose the little Baggins – who seemed eager to run off as soon as possible.

"_Frodo, my boy, listen up! Don't leave my sight – your mother will kill me if I lose you here!"_

"_But uncle –"_the young boy began indignantly.

Yet the little man refused to give up, declaring that they would visit every attraction together. At first, it wasn't that bad and the Mister Baggins actually began to enjoy himself a little, but soon they approached the Haunted house and he felt like fainting again. It was…hideous. Even the fake blood and the corpses looked unnervingly convincing, and Bilbo wasn't sure he wanted to explore the inside. A horrific scream suddenly rose in the air and he felt his own blood turning cold with fear. So when a heavy hand grasped his shoulder, he jumped and let out a small yelp, making his nephew and the surrounding crowd titter.

"_Pfff_," a dark-haired boy scoffed. "_Your uncle screams like a girl Frodo_!"

"_Were you going to the haunted house?"_ a second boy asked "_We can go together_!"

It was with a mingled sense of annoyance and relief that Bilbo recognised the two boys. They were Frodo's classmates; Fili and Kili. The two brothers were little devils in Bilbo's eyes – an energetic duo hell-bent on causing mayhem. Yet he sometimes found they had a good influence on Frodo, and vice versa… most of the time. But while Frodo's attention was captivated by the two siblings, it was the man standing behind them that held Bilbo's interest. Thorin Oakenshield stood before him, tall and intimidating, his hawk-like eyes lingering on Bilbo in a way that made him feel most uncomfortable. The little man's first instinct was to run away from the sombre man as fast as his legs could carry him – but on second thoughts, he decided it was probably more polite (and less dangerous) to say hello first.

"_Bilbo Baggins_," Thorin said. "_It's been a long time since we last met_."

The grocer cleared his throat and let tout a nervous laugh before speaking, trying hard not to cower under the other man's cool gaze. "_Yes, it was at your nephews' eighth birthday if I remember correctly._" There was a tense silence. "_So…nice day, isn't it_?"

The banker's face was unreadable, and it made Bilbo (if possible) even more nervous. He wondered if there was a word for someone who felt like digging a hole and burying himself in it…

Thorin's annoyance was palpable and if at first Bilbo thought he was the reason for it, he then glanced over his shoulder and realised with a start that the three boys were missing.

"_Oh my god, those little… monsters_!" he began to groan before holding himself back, realising Kili and Fili's uncle could take it wrong if he spoke his mind on account of the man's nephews. But judging by Thorin's face, he was thinking the same about the three boys. The crowd was dense around them and even while standing on the tip of his toes, the grocerman wasn't able to spot Frodo. Damn, his sister would kill him if he called to tell her he didn't knew where her son was!

"…_.house_."

The deep voice dragged him back to reality and he glanced at Thorin.

"_I beg your pardon?"_ he asked, confused.

"_The Boys. They must have slipped away to the Haunted house – my nephews were looking forward to seeing it."_

"_Of course – the haunted house! We should go in and look for them_." Bilbo strode to the booth, Thorin in tow.

"_Good afternoon sir, two tickets for the attraction please. Thank you! Thorin, come and _–"Bilbo began before realising he was speaking to one of the most influential men in town. He should really not be so familiar with him.

The taller man, however, remained silent about it and entered the Haunted House without a backward glance and Bilbo sighed with relief. Yet, the idea of what awaited him inside didn't cheer him up in the slightest. Really, what was so appealing about being scared to death? He couldn't understand young people these days.

Taking a deep breath, he boldly stepped over the threshold – only to bump into something large and meaty.

"_I'd have thought you were too scared to come, Baggins," _Thorin said.

If not for the fact that they'd known each other since secondary school, Bilbo would have missed the slight note of amusement in Thorin's cold voice. He was about to remind Mister Oakenshield that he'd already proven he wasn't a coward in the past when a sudden flash blinded them. A terrifying laugh rose from darkness. _Oh, great_. But before he could open his mouth, Thorin had already strode away, not impressed in the slightest. Of course, he wasn't. Cursing, Bilbo followed, determined not to stay alone in the dark corridor.

But his hope of not being humiliated vanished when he felt something tickling his neck, causing him to jump and scream for the third time.

"_What on earth –? Get off, get off you beastly creature_!"

"_You're worse than a child, Baggins_," Thorin groaned, plucking the fake spider off Bilbo's neck and throwing it over his shoulder. "R_idiculous_."He started walking away again when a cross voice made him stop.

"_Well, you didn't find me so ridiculous when you won your last match thanks to me!_"

If Bilbo goal's was to obtain a reaction from his companion, he succeeded, for a strong fist suddenly grasped his shirt collar, Thorin's angry face only inches from his.

"_Are you mocking me, Baggins? Need I remind you it was by pure chance that your last penalty shot even counted? You were weak – and you still are. Don't forget it_."

Bilbo should have said something to defend himself, but as always, he knew Thorin was right. Sure, he'd allowed their team to win the rugby cup during their last year of School, but it was the only time he'd done_ anything_ right on the field. That's why instead of snapping back with a sharp retort, he just let out a sad laugh before resuming his path. After all, he was here to find his nephew.

Strangely enough, Bilbo found he wasn't as afraid after their verbal fight as he had been upon entering the Haunted House. He barely jumped when a zombie tried to catch his arm, and he even nearly broke a vampire's teeth while trying to push him away (accidently, of course). The two men walked in silence, but the atmosphere was tense, and it get worst when they entered a room filled with cracked mirrors. At first, Bilbo didn't notice anything peculiar. Then a small sob caught his attention, and he finally saw the little girl crying in a corner. He briefly wondered if she was a fake ghost, but soon realised the girl was not part of the attraction and hastily crouched down next to her.

"_Hey, are you alright, miss_?" He yelped when the child clung to his sleeve, sobbing loudly. "_Whoa, hey there, it's ok, it's ok_!" He reached out a hand, patting her back soothingly. "_Are you lost? Don't worry; I'm going to take you out of here, all right?"_

"_Mister, I'm scared of the monsters, they-they want to eat me!_"the small girl cried. Bilbo ignored the way Thorin grunted in disapproval, instead taking the child in his arm and carrying her out of the Haunted House. How could they let young kid like her inside? He was pretty sure she would have nightmares long after today.

"_Thanks Mister, you're really nice_," the small girl whispered as they stepped once again into a dark corridor. Petting her soft ginger hair, Mister Baggins chuckled. Somehow, the small child clinging to his shoulders had eradicated his fears. He could feel Thorin's sharp eyes on his back, but he didn't acknowledge the other man's presence, still a little upset at the banker's harsh words. They passed two witches and a small ghost before emerging blinking into the sunlight.

"_We did it Mister_," the child cried. "_We're out! Thanks a lot for helping me!"_ She wriggled down from his arm and jumped on the spot, her face bright and no longer streaked with tars. Feeling warmer, Bilbo petted the girl's head one last time before saying goodbye. She kissed him on the cheek before running off into the crowd, laughing.

"_You're good with children," _Thorin pointed out, before adding: _"With people in general. They easily put their trust in you."_

So, it was time for them to talk about it after all. It wasn't going to be pleasant for either of them, but they had to get it over with. In fact, they should have resolved the matter thirteen years ago. Slowly facing the banker, Bilbo spoke, without avoided the cold eyes this time.

"_Everybody except you, right? Even when Coach Grey put me on the team, you never acknowledged me as a real member. I don't know why, but you never have trusted me, not during school, not when your sister asked me to be Kili's godfather, and certainly not now. Do I have to conclude you truly despise me, Thorin Oakenshield_?"

That was it. He had finally dropped the bomb. But now, they had to put an end to this stupid school grudge and Bilbo would not move until they spoke about it.

And that was how they end up in the Love Tunnel, sitting in a swan wagon, stubbornly avoiding eye-contact. In truth they were still searching for their nephews as they resolved their differences, but they had somehow ended up trapped in this very awkward situation. Bilbo thought glumly that if Thorin had loathed him before today, he must surly want to_ kill_ him now. He glanced at his watch.

"_So, since we're caught here for the next few minutes, it's time we settled this like adults. And mind your temper please, I don't want people to think we're having a domestic."_

Thorin glared."_I am perfectly calm. Now speak your mind – before I throw you overboard_."

Bilbo sighed. His companion was _anything_ but calm, but since the Thorin would obviously not be the one to break the ice, it was Bilbo's role to do so:

"_The real question here is, what did I do to make you hate me that much?_"

If he was honest, Bilbo had no memory whatsoever of having done anything to antagonize the banker. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Upon their introduction, the first words the two had shared had not been pleasant.

Aaah, the good old days… When young Bilbo Baggins, freshman, had been exploring the campus and had ended up strolling through the rugby field, smiling carelessly and discovering the joy of college… that is, until a ball hit him smack in the face. As he'd collapsed, moaning in pain and wishing he'd had the sense to stay away, a shadow had darkened his vision and a harsh voice had snapped, « Get off of the field, runt. »

That memorable day had marked the beginning of his relationship with Thorin Oakenshield, captain of The Dwarves Rugby Team – second best rugby team in the city. Thus had begun the problems that would plague Bilbo for the next three years of his life; at first he'd been the target of their jokes and tricks; « accidently » being locking in the girl toilets, finding glue on his seat, falling headfirst into a dustbin. That was, until the day one of the lads got in a fight and had to be hospitalized – leaving The Dwarves Rugby Team one player short. No one had volunteered for the position, so Coach Grey had – rather unexpectedly – picked Bilbo. (Maybe because the old man knew he will never refuse?)

That had been the second time Bilbo had heard Thorin's voice: « _No place for a runt like him on my team_." The captain had given him a disdainful look and declared; "_He will stay on the bench. _»

And so Bilbo had spent each game squished between the team's coaches, cheering The Dwarvesas loudly as he could. Yes, they still occasionally poked fun at him, but Bilbo knew that deep down, they were good people. And when, one day, after a long and tiring match the team finally won, he'd been the first to run onto the pitch and voice his congratulations. After that, Bilbo officially became a member of the rugby team and the other guys did their best to teach him how to play. And, if he was being honest with himself, he had rather enjoyed it. Of course, he still sucked at shooting, but he was a rather excellent catcher and his slight figure meant that he was fast and good at dodging things. Yet, despite Bilbo's best efforts, Thorin persisted in ignoring him – and was always here to remind Bilbo he was the weakest player.

Then, one night after yet another successful match, they had a party. Everything was going smoothly – that is, until a drunken Bilbo finally snapped and told Thorin to go fuck himself. He didn't remember blanking out, but he still possessed pictures of his broken face after Thorin used him as a punching ball.

Their relationship had slowly deteriorated from that point – right up until the Final match of the year, three weeks before graduation. Bilbo remembered that day very clearly; how could he forget? The Dwarves had been up against Smaug Academy, whose team captain also happened to be Thorin's archenemy, a narcissistic young man named Thranduil. Bilbo didn't have a very high opinion of him, but had no personal grudge against the lad (although he did wonder why such a pretty-boy had ever taken a liking to the violent sport of Rugby). Thranduil was skilled, skilled enough to crush The Dwarves in the past, back in the days when Bilbo hadn't yet joined the team – and it seemed to drive Thorin mad.

Needless to say the match was heated, and Bilbo marvelled at how he survived it without any broken bones. During the last minute of the game, both team were battling head to head. Even though he had never been a terribly good shooter, constantly outshone by his teammates, when the referee called for a penalty shot in the last few minutes of the game Bilbo summoned up his courage and decided to try one last time, for all of them. And he did it. They won the game, and it was thanks to Bilbo. He couldn't remember how many people had hugged him that night, how many times he was throw in the air and caught by his friends, but he would never forget Thranduil's face, full of rage at their defeat.

He won. But to this day, he regretted one thing yet. A small, effortless sentence that hadn't been said that day.

"_Do you know what upsets me the most?"_ Bilbo muttered, watching the dull light at the end of the Tunnel of Love growing steadily brighter. "_It's stupid, really. I was just hoping that for once, you would have said something. I wasn't asking for you praise; I just wanted you to acknowledge me as a teammate. I wanted you to recognise my existence as Bilbo Baggins, the team member who helped you win your last match. Nothing more, Thorin Oakenshield_."

So, that was it. After so many years of holding back his frustration, he had finally spoken them out loud. He took a deep breath, resolutely avoiding the other man's eyes. Thorin haven't uttered a word since the beginning of Bilbo's monologue. It was like speaking to a marble statue; the same cold eyes and lack of expression on his face. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, after all. What if the man called him a runt again or worse a…

"_You did well_."

… Looser. Bilbo's mouth dropped. He turned to face his former team captain. Was he lying? Impossible to know, with those cold eyes.

"_I… I beg your pardon_?"

"_You did well, for once. We won the game, because of your last penalty shot. Thank you, Bilbo Baggins."_

Bilbo had waited thirteen years to hear those words. He burst into laughter. It wasn't a cheerful sound, rather hysterical, in fact. Yet, he couldn't stop. He had said it – for the first time, Thorin had spoken to him as an equal.

Thorin arched one eyebrow. "_Are you quite well, Baggins?"_

"_Yes_," Bilbo chortled, "_I guess so. I'm sorry, I don't know why I – I'm laughing like that. Just the shock, I guess. I'm sorry, I just need to breathe a little."_

They emerged from the tunnel and Bilbo shakily got out of the wagon, still trying to put his mind in order. But before he could get used to solid ground again, a strong hand grasped his arm and pulled him away through the crowd.

"_Wait, where are we going now_?" Bilbo asked. "_I'm not going in any other cheesy attraction, just so you know."_

Thorin snorted. "_As if it were my desire. I think I have spotted the boys – Look._"

He pointed to a bench near a fountain, and it was with a surge of relief that Bilbo recognised the three youngsters, happily slurping ice cream.

"_Uncle!"_ His nephew called, waving him over.

"_Frodo, you little… wait until your mother hears of this! And as for you two – don't laugh_!"

It was no use; the kids weren't listening at all, looking all sweet and innocent. Sighing, he finally smiled, happy and tired from his own adventure. When it was time to leave, Bilbo said goodbye to the twins, before facing their uncle.

"_So…hmm_," he said awkwardly, "_say hello to Dis for me. Tell her I'm happy about her new fiancé. He looks like a good guy_. »

Thorin nodded. "_I will pass on your regards_."

"_Well, good bye then. See you at your sister's wedding_."

Bilbo began to turn away when a hand caught his shoulder. Curious, he glanced over his shoulder at the other man who was fishing around in his pocket for something. Thorin released Bilbo and handed him a business card. Bilbo gave it a curious glance, raising an eyebrow.

"_My contact details_," Thorin explained. "_If your nephew want to learn how to play rugby. I sometimes play with Fili and Kili, if he wants to join us_."

Bilbo knew it was Thorin's way of inviting him to join in too. Bilbo smiled and took the card, laughing softly.

« _Oh, I'm sure he will. See you on the field, Thorin Oakenshield._ »

« _Goodbye, Bilbo Baggins._ »

They shook hands and Bilbo took his leave, smiling widely – much to his nephew's confusion.

In the end, Bilbo reflected that a little adventure from time to time could be good for him. And now, he had to find sport clothes again!


End file.
